


help me hold onto you

by waveridden



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Mythology, M/M, Multi, Season: Spring in Hieron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveridden/pseuds/waveridden
Summary: A prince comes to a faraway land to slay a monster. (Or, a Thesus and Ariadne AU.)
Relationships: Ephrim/Red Jack/Throndir (Friends at the Table)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: 2019 AU December Challenge





	help me hold onto you

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of the AUcember series, a self-made challenge where I try to write a new AU one-shot every day. You can read all of the AUcember fics in the collection linked above. Title is from The Archer by Taylor Swift.
> 
> All my love to Tam, who is the only reason I know literally anything about mythology.
> 
> Also, not that this is the point of any of this, but it's delightful to me how specific the official Ao3 tags for mythology AUs are. Rock on, Ao3.

Auniq is quiet. It’s one of the first things that Ephrim notices when he arrives. He’s used to noise, to hustle and bustle and what have you, but it’s deathly still. He supposes he understands; if his kingdom were blighted by a monster, it might be a different place.

Highwater convinced him to arrive not as a prince but as a passenger, and so he pulls his hood up over his face as he goes through the streets. In due time he’ll arrive at the palace, but for now he wants to see exactly what he’s walking into

It makes him homesick, in a strange way, even though he’s never had much of a home. He has a kingdom and a palace and all, but he’s always been more of a traveler. Auniq seems like it must be someone’s home - he knows that Kindrali rules here, that Kindrali has some kind of an unconventional heir, that the kingdom has been ravaged by the beast. It’s locked away but it simply won’t die. Ephrim plans on changing that.

“You must be new here,” a voice says. Ephrim doesn’t startle, just turns, and sees a man with green eyes and a curious tilt to his head. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“And you’ve seen everybody?”

“Yes,” he says simply. “Are you here for the challenge?”

Ephrim lifts his chin; this man is taller than him but not by much, and when Ephrim raises his head they’re about even. “I am.”

The man just inclines his head even further, a strange gesture that Ephrim can’t fathom, and says, “Follow me.”

#

His name is Throndir, Ephrim learns. He lives in the palace, or at the very least he visits often. He greets everyone they pass by name, whether they’re an elf or a goblin or a human. He seems friendly with all of them, and they all seem genuinely happy to see him.

He talks as he leads Ephrim through the palace, slowly. He has a dog, he’s handy with a bow, he didn’t read much as a child but he’s been spending more and more time in the library lately. He always seems awestruck whenever he mentions Kindrali. He must be an attendant, Ephrim decides. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

And then, suddenly, they’re at a bedroom, plain and clearly intended for guests.

Ephrim looks suspiciously from the fluffy duvet to Throndir. “What is this?”

“Kindrali wants all challengers to stay in the palace before they challenge the beast. You can go on the third night.”

“Why? Isn’t going to fight the beast basically a fancy way of sacrificing yourself?”

“Are you planning on sacrificing yourself?” Throndir says. It comes out sharp, and Ephrim watches as he takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “No, the challenge is meant to be that: a challenge. Nobody has ever succeeded, but one day someone will.”

He sounds unhappy about it. Ephrim considers asking why, but he’s not sure how much he cares about what this attendant thinks of the challenge, so he decides against it.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” he says instead. Throndir takes it as the dismissal that it is, giving Ephrim a small, strained smile before he leaves.

Ephrim sets his things in the room and goes about making it homey, arranging pillows and moving furniture. It takes only minutes before he’s bored, and he leaves the room again. Somehow, he’s not surprised to find Throndir waiting for him.

Ephrim arches an eyebrow. “Are you on babysitting duty?”

“Something like that,” Throndir says. “Let’s go for a walk.”

#

Throndir is strange, to say the least. Ephrim’s first night at the palace passes, and he wakes to find Throndir waiting for him again. He never gives Ephrim a title, but he offers to show him around Auniq. He takes Ephrim to a bakery, a clothing store, a fishing pier at a lake. Ephrim lets Throndir take him everywhere, because what else is there to do if he can’t kill the damn beast?

“You never said why you’re doing this,” Throndir says as they’re leaving the pier.

Ephrim shrugs. “What is there to say?”

Throndir shoots him a skeptical look. “Most people have a lot to say. It’s for the honor of their kingdom, it’s for the safety of the people, it’s for fame and glory. You just seem to be here because it’s something to do.”

“What better way could I possibly spend my time?”

“Don’t you have a job or a family or something?”

“Not really,” Ephrim says. Throndir gives him another strange look, and Ephrim sighs. “I’ve never been very close with my family. We’re… comfortable, in terms of money and status, but I’ve never actually felt connected to them or what we do.”

Throndir gives him a look that he can’t parse. “So you want to do this because it’s something that sets you apart.”

Ephrim flashes Throndir a grin, flat and mirthless. “I want to do this because I have to,” he says. It’s far too honest, and he looks away, mind racing. Throndir is smart, certainly, but the last thing Ephrim wants to do is reveal that he’s a goddamn prince. Everyone knows that he has no family, and everyone thinks he’s mostly a figurehead. Ephrim wants, more than anything, to  _ do _ something.

“You don’t,” Throndir says, so softly Ephrim’s not sure that he heard it. But when he looks over, Throndir is looking away, in a mimicry of something casual.

“Maybe,” Ephrim says, and Throndir doesn’t answer.

#

On the third day, there’s a feast in the palace. It’s the smallest feast that Ephrim has ever seen, and it’s filled with people he doesn’t recognize, people he didn’t meet during his time at the palace. He recognizes some of the servants and common people that Throndir had spoken to, and tries to say hello, but they all give him strange looks. Maybe they don’t remember him. It’s a strange, not entirely unpleasant thought.

Throndir isn’t at the feast. Ephrim tries not to think about that.

There’s a speech from someone about how neither Kindrali nor his chosen heir could be present, but they send their blessings to the challenger. Ephrim just gives everyone tight smiles and tries not to let his nerves show. The stakes feel impossibly high right now.

It’s a markedly funereal feast. Most challengers are never heard from again, although some come back. They never speak of the experience. Trauma, Ephrim supposes. It makes the most sense.

That night, as Ephrim gathers his armor, he hears a knock on the door. He’s not surprised to see Throndir on the other side, but it’s something of a relief. After two days spent with Throndir, it was odd not to see him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Throndir says, which clearly isn’t true. His hair’s a mess, and his jaw keeps working, like he’s tense, like he’s trying to keep words in. Ephrim opens his mouth to ask what’s going on, but before he can, Throndir thrusts out his cupped hands.

Ephrim frowns. “What is this?”

“Twine,” Throndir says. “For you to find your way.”

He takes the ball of twine and examines it. It’s simple, clearly handwoven, dark green. “Is this from that shop you went to the yesterday?”

Throndir blinks. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” Ephrim says. The storefront had been gorgeous, and Ephrim had been distracted by a display of fabrics in the front. He knows Throndir had bought something, but this isn’t what he was expecting. “To find my way?”

“Yes.” Throndir lifts his hand and gently folds Ephrim’s fingers until they’re closed around the ball of twine. “Just… remember that in a labyrinth, you just have to keep moving forward. Even if forward doesn’t look like what you’re expecting.”

“Why do I feel like you know something I don’t?”

Throndir smirks, a fleeting expression that makes Ephrim’s heart flutter. “I know plenty of things, Prince Ephrim. Good luck.”

“Wait,” Ephrim says, startled - when did Throndir figure out that he was the prince? - but Throndir’s already leaving, moving with such determination that Ephrim doesn’t think he could stop him.

He looks back down at his hand, still wrapped around the ball of twine, and takes a deep breath. Clearly, he’s going to have to be careful in this labyrinth.

#

The twine proves invaluable. The labyrinth might only move forward, but it’s so dense and hard to move through that Ephrim frequently finds himself turned around. It’s only when he sees the twine behind him that he realizes his mistake. It feels oddly like having Throndir there with him. There are moments when he swears he can hear Throndir whispering in his ear, telling him to turn one way or the other. It’s a comfort in an unwelcoming place.

But eventually, the walls of the labyrinth stop being so tight and cramped. They become more and more open, and Ephrim can hear something shifting around. His breath catches, and his hand drops to the hilt of his sword as he rounds one corner, and then another, and then another.

And then stops.

He’s heard stories about the monster, of course. Nobody, not even the survivors, will ever describe it, but it’s supposed to be horrible, wretched and inhuman and monstrous. But the thing in front of Ephrim looks… well, mostly like a man. He’s massive, tall and barrel-chested and a bright scarlet red. He has horns, and his feet are shackled to the ground in heavy, ancient-looking metal.

Ephrim pauses. It may be a mistake, because it gives the man enough time to turn and look him up and down.

“Well,” he says, and isn’t that a goddamn shock, the thing  _ talks. _ “I suppose you’re here to kill me.”

“I’m reevaluating,” Ephrim says slowly. “You aren’t what I was expecting.”

The man smiles, revealing incredibly sharp teeth. “I will take that as a compliment.”

“Sure.” Ephrim pauses, weighing the pros and cons, and then takes his hand off his sword. It moves to fiddle with the pocket on his belt where he’s holding the twine. God, the twine, all that bullshit about seeing what’s in front of you. Throndir was trying to warn him.

The man follows his gesture, and his eyes widen as he takes in the twine. “Throndir,” he says on an exhale, so quietly Ephrim almost doesn’t hear it.

Ephrim takes the twine out of the pocket. “He sent me with this.”

“I’m impressed,” the man murmurs. “To earn the favor of Kindrali’s chosen, you must be very special indeed.”

“He’s the chosen?” Ephrim blurts out. 

The man arches an eyebrow at him. “Surely you must’ve noticed that he had passage wherever he wanted to go.”

“I thought he was just a friendly guy!”

“He’s that as well.”

“Did you… know him? Before you were here?” Ephrim pause. “Do you have a name?”

“I am Red Jack.” He smiles, and it somehow seems less fanged this time around. “I was once of the world, much the same way that you are. I was close with Kindrali, and closer still with Throndir. But Kindrali died, and one of his advisors threw a coup.”

“What?”

Red Jack laughs as Ephrim’s eyes widen. It’s a warm sound, incongruous with his words. “They still haven’t told anyone? The old man died years ago. I fought the coup, but they managed to overpower me. I believe that they’re keeping me here to ensure that Throndir doesn’t revolt.”

“You think they could kill you?”

“I think that even I can only survive so much.”

Ephrim takes a deep breath. The name Red Jack rings a bell; he was allegedly an advisor to Kindrali, but there were rumors that he was a consort or something along those lines. He hasn’t been seen in years. Everything fits together too well to be a coincidence.

“If I free you,” Ephrim says, “what comes next?”

Red Jack tilts his head, a gesture that reminds Ephrim uncannily of Throndir. “A revolution, I suppose. Either that or we run away, if you know somewhere that would offer political refuge.”

Ephrim smiles sharply. Now this is something he can work with.

#

Red Jack is so broad that he has trouble getting through the narrowest halls, the ones at the beginning of the labyrinth. But he follows Ephrim, squeezing through every twist and turn with what strikes Ephrim as an uncharacteristic silence. He keeps picking up the twine as they go and re-rolling it into a ball; Ephrim can’t tell if it’s because of sentiment or nerves.

For his part, Ephrim just keeps tight hold of his sword. It’s dented, after getting Red Jack out of the chains, but that’s worth it. He can get a new sword later.

“Is anyone expecting you to exit?” Red Jack asks as they approach the start of the labyrinth.

“I hope not,” Ephrim mutters. He hadn’t considered that. “Think we can take ‘em?”

“Yes,” Red Jack says simply, and they take one last turn, and then Throndir is there, wide-eyed and awestruck.

Ephrim manages to move out of the way before Throndir makes a choked noise and throws himself at Red Jack. He forces himself to look away; this doesn’t feel like it’s his reunion to see, no matter how badly he wishes it were.

It’s only a minute or so before there’s a light touch on his shoulder. Ephrim turns and Throndir lunges at him, burying his face in Ephrim’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he says, so shot through with emotion that it’s hard for Ephrim to hear.

Ephrim still lifts his hand to Throndir’s shoulders. “Of course,” he says, and he means it. “I’m told you could use some political refuge.”

Throndir pulls back enough to smirk at Ephrim, at odds with his damp eyes. “Do you know somewhere that could take us in?”

Ephrim glances between Throndir and Red Jack, who’s beaming at the pair of them. He can feel a grin threatening to spread across his own face, manic and relieved.

“You know,” he says, “I think I just might.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you also miss Ephronjack, come say hi on Tumblr/Twitter @waveridden!


End file.
